Newsies Oneshots 2.0

Marlboro Nights-Jackpot

It's been so long😭I have to write them

WARNING: lots of swearing, mentions of homophobia. I don't usually put a warning for swearing, but there's a bunch of it. Just the standard words, but they are repeated.

Enjoy!

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Spot watched the smoke dance in the air, the smell comfortably hitting his nostrils as normal when he's stressed from the week. He placed the cigarette between his lips again, inhaling the nicotine with a practice, blowing it out gently into the air.

A sense of guilt fell upon his chest as he coughed out, sniffling the cold air. He was meant to be breaking a habit like this, but he couldn't help keeping a something he started at the end of middle school. He minimized the cigarette use to once a week, which was better than Race but no greater than Myron. On this Friday, he just felt stressed.

He wasn't even sure what to be stressed about. He could blame it on his family, but he'd actually had on okay time. Of course, the Conlons aren't the greatest people in the world, with their rather argumentative dinners and weird expectation of the elders getting everything they want (which Spot hated with every fiber in his body because he knew his mother was just as afraid of being ostracized as he is), but their Thanksgiving wasn't the worse thing that could happen to him. As a matter of fact, he smiled more than he frowned.

But these feelings left him with a conflict in himself. He was supposed to be angry, to have yelled at someone for saying something outwardly homophobic when no one else would. He was supposed to have argued with his father before the dinner was over and stormed out before pie was passed out. Naturally, he'd have to go back home, being only eighteen and without a stable enough job, but he wouldn't have regretted anything he said as emotions festered inside of him. But the only emotions he felt was happiness, and he'd hate to admit it, but gratitude.

Spot blew out more smoke, looking at the clouded night sky and wondering if it was committing to the lack of visible stars in the city sky. Can't be, I'm just one guy. It's all those big joes with the corporations faults.

Spot chuckled and placed the cigarette between his lips before taking it away and pushing out smoke from his nostrils. "Why the hell are you smoking on the grass?"

Spot looked up behind him as best as his eyes would allow without the back of his eyes stinging with pain. He was lying on the grass, his left hand across his stomach as a hoodie poorly warmed his arms. He wasn't sure how else to answer but "Fuck off, Kelly."

Jack chuckled as he kept his balance against the shared gate, the top of the wooden posts digging into his arms. "You know that's a fire hazard, right? Shouldn't smoke so close to something so flammable."

"Grass ain't flammable", Spot stated loudly enough for Jack to hear, but he wasn't exactly sure of himself. "Since when has grass been flammable?"

"Since me and your mother met up last night to enact in our fiery passion."

Jack laughed as Spot flipped him off, knowing the younger was grinning in amusement. That was practically his job, to offer unprofessional counseling and entertain the others with the hopes of making them smile. He often succeeded, but there were still times when his friends looked ready to punch him in his face. "Can I come over?"

"I'd rather you'd stay over your side of the, uh", Spot stuttered, brows furrowed as he thought, but no other word but "door" came to his mind, and he just knew it wasn't it. In response, and hopes yo make himself feel better, he took the cigarette away from his mouth and stared at it. "Damn, I think this shit's rotting my brain."